


A Man of Parts

by ReaderJane



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-12
Updated: 2010-10-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 15:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaderJane/pseuds/ReaderJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A different slant on the Lovers Walk cocoa with Joyce scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man of Parts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the sb_fag_ends prompt, "Spuffy vs Frankenstein".  
> Timeline: S3 E8 Lovers Walk  
> Dialog borrowed and adapted from Dan Vebber and Doug Petrie.  
> Disclaimer: still not mine, alas.

"Hullo, Joyce."

Joyce dropped the phone in surprise. When she picked it back up, Buffy was gone.

"Hello... Spike, isn't it?" Joyce let her arm brush against her skirt pocket. Reassured, she replaced the phone in its cradle. "What brings you here?"

The man ducked his head as if embarrassed. "Sorry to let myself in. I knocked, but you were too busy to hear. Is Buffy about?"

"She's at the school. I was just speaking with her." There was an awkward pause. "Would you like to wait?"

"Ta." He smiled, and Joyce caught a glimpse of the rock-star quality that, together with the bleached hair and leather, had reminded her of Billy Idol the year before.

She should offer him something to drink. Did vampires drink anything besides blood? Judging by the way he was swaying, he drank alcohol, at least.

"I was just going to make some cocoa. Do you want some?" _Cocoa_. She sounded like somebody's grandmother. Maybe that wasn't a bad idea. Non-threatening, solicitous. Nobody he needed to worry about.

"Love some." He hitched himself onto a kitchen stool and waited expectantly. Joyce found herself getting out the sugar and milk, rummaging for the measuring spoons.

"Have you been away? I haven't seen you for awhile."

"I was in Brazil with Dru. M'girlfriend. Only, we broke up."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." This could explain the alcohol. Joyce stirred the saucepan, waiting for the cocoa to heat.

"I'm gonna get her back. Got it all planned out. Love spell." He grinned like an ingenious little boy. "Willow's helping me. But, she said she left her spellbook at Buffy's, so I said, I'd just come round and fetch it. Have you seen it lying about?"

Joyce covered her confusion by reaching for the vanilla. "No, I haven't. When Buffy gets back, maybe she'll know where it is." She focused on the steaming milk, but stood so she could keep an eye on him.

"I don't know what to do without her." Spike fiddled with the wooden spoons in their canister. "Drusilla. We've been together so long. It's like, she made me, right? Stitched me together out of a demon and a cringing wanker."

"Like Frankenstein's monster," Joyce murmured.

"Right!" Spike leaned forward, eager for understanding. "Funny, most people just call him Frankenstein."

"No, no," Joyce waved her finger as if repeating an argument. "Victor Frankenstein was the mad scientist. The monster didn't have a name." Joyce ladled cocoa into two mugs and slid them onto the kitchen island.

"I have a name. I know what I'm here for." Spike took a swallow. "For her. To be hers. Whatever Dru wants. She made me to be her bad dog. And I'm good at it!" Spike raised his mug for emphasis. "Killed thousands, I have, including two slayers--" He stopped short at Joyce's expression.

"Marshmallows?" _Non-threatening. Solicitous._

"Yeah, thanks." He dropped his gaze again. Joyce opened the cupboard, wondering how long it would take Buffy to run from the high school.

"I was just talking with Buffy about her future plans." Joyce hunted for a safer topic. "She scored very well on her SATs. I'm encouraging her to think about college."

Spike chuckled. "Slayer's not a schoolgirl. She's a warrior."

"I think I know my daughter better than you do," Joyce bridled. She turned to him, hand on her hip.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry." They both blinked at his meek reply.

Joyce shook some marshmallows into Spike's mug, careful to stay on the other side of the counter. With her other hand she surreptitiously brushed her pocket again.

A sly look crept over his face. "You've got a weapon in your pocket."

Joyce stepped back out of arm's reach. "The man I dated before I met Buffy's father had... an unpredictable temper. I learned to have a backup plan."

"What is it, then?" Spike sniffed, amused. "A cross?"

Joyce drew a small squirt bottle out of her skirt and set it on the counter, keeping her hand near it but not on the nozzle. "Reach for the sky," she drawled.

Spike grinned. "I like you. You don't flinch. Buffy gets that from you, doesn't she?"

Joyce replied drily, "I like to think I've raised her well."

"I am a monster." His blue eyes shone, and Joyce wondered why the monsters were always so earnest. "But I think... I don't want to kill your daughter. What's wrong with me?"

Joyce focused on not flinching. "Where should I start?"

Spike snorted.

 _Keep him talking._ Joyce ventured, "If Drusilla 'made' you--"

"Sired me," Spike nodded fondly.

"Then who made her? Do you have a, a family?"

The door crashed open and bounced against the kitchen wall. Joyce jumped. The ladle clattered to the floor.

Buffy's old boyfriend Angel stood in the doorway. He leaned against an invisible barrier, practically frothing. "Spike."

Spike set down his mug. "That would be Grandsire."

Joyce gasped. "Oh, no!"

"Joyce, listen to me," Angel demanded. "Invite me in."

"You get away from this house or I will kill you myself." Joyce grabbed up her squirt bottle and marched to the doorway. Whatever it was that kept Buffy's stalker outside, she hoped it would hold up long enough for Buffy to get home.

Angel kept pushing at the air across the threshold. "Spike's dangerous. You can't trust him."

"Of course he's dangerous. He's not the one threatening me right now."

Out of the corner of her eye, Joyce saw Spike turn to goggle at her. "Yeah," he baited Angel, obviously enjoying himself. "You're not invited in. You're a very bad man."

Angel's hands balled into fists. "You touch her, and I'll cut your head off."

"You and what army?" Spike bounced on his toes like a boy taunting a bully.

"That would be me."

Joyce sagged with relief to hear Buffy's voice behind her. Buffy grabbed Spike by the shirt and threw him onto the counter, pinning him there with one thin arm. "Angel," Buffy called over her shoulder, "why don't you come on in?"

"Wait, I'm -- I'm confused," Joyce stuttered. She crowded back by the stove as the tall man swept into the kitchen.

"Don't you ever," Buffy snarled, "threaten my mother."

"Who's threatening, pet?" Spike flashed a glance at Joyce. "We were just having a cuppa, waiting for you to get home. Ask your mum."

"Tell us another one." Angel grabbed one of the wooden spoons and broke it, preparing to stab Spike with the splintered end.

"Willow!" Spike spoke to forestall Angel.

"You took Willow." Buffy grimaced.

"You do me now, you'll never find her, or the boy."

"He's probably got them locked up in the factory." Angel drew back his arm again.

"Wait!" Buffy grabbed Angel's sleeve. "We might need him to find Willow and Xander."

Angel shook his head. "You can't trust anything Spike says. We should stake him now; then we can look for them without worrying what he's up to. He has an invitation to your house." Joyce positioned her finger on the squirt bottle, ready to jump in. Angel made another move toward Spike's chest with the broken spoon.

Buffy shoved Angel back. "Excuse me, but that is _my_ decision to make."

Spike started to sit up as Buffy relaxed her grip on his throat, only to be slammed down on the counter again. He kept his eyes on the splintered wood in Angel's fist.

"What is it with everyone today?" Buffy complained. "Mom and Giles are trying to plan out my life for me, and now you think you can decide what's best for my family and friends? God, what I wouldn't give for one person who would just follow my lead."

Forgotten in the corner, Joyce saw Spike's attention slide to Buffy like a compass needle orienting itself to a new North.

"That's right, Slayer. Your friends are at the factory. I'll take you to them. Lead the way." He spoke quietly as if he were not in mortal danger.

Angel's eyes narrowed. He loomed over Spike while Buffy let the smaller man stand up.

"If Willow and Xander aren't okay, I'll make you wish I'd staked you," Buffy threatened.

Spike smirked. "You say the sweetest things," he purred.

Buffy rolled her eyes, but Joyce caught Angel's glower over their heads. _Oh, God. Frankenstein and Dracula are going to clash over my daughter._

She waited until the three superbeings had elbowed each other suspiciously out the door, then settled to the mundane task of cleanup.

**Author's Note:**

>  _I borrowed the compass metaphor from Lois McMaster Bujold, who used it in her marvellous novel, The Curse of Chalion._


End file.
